The Click of a Lock
by Bri-Gils
Summary: "All escapes start with the click of a lock"-That's what Matilda said, right? Well, Jenna thinks it just may be time to escape. After all, "every day starts with the tick of a clock" and as James Potter pointed out, her clock is ticking. JSP/OC ASP/OC Next Gen. OC POV rated T for chapters with abuse and drug use


**I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I wish I did, but I don't.**

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_"All escapes start with the click of a lock"-That's what Matilda said, right? Well, Jenna thinks it just may be time to escape. After all, "every day starts with the tick of a clock" and as James Potter pointed out, her clock is ticking. JSP/OC ASP/OC Next Gen._

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So I've been kicking around the idea of this story for what seems like forever, and I've written parts of about 3 different drafts of it, and even posted some on this website. I've now decided to do it all from the POV of an OC, just because she had a very interesting story, and affects the Potter children a lot. The main Next Gen in this story is going to be James, Albus, and Scorpius, with some Rose and Lily. The other cousins will be mentioned and seen, of course, but they're not the main focus in Jenna's life. Let me know how you like it!

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April 20, 2013

She swore there were a multitude of colors on her last night. Lurid purple splotches lined her arm, tender to even the touch of her cotton bed sheets. Her left eye, swollen shot so not even tears could escape it as her mother gingerly treated the array of blues, violets, and yellows surrounding the socket. So now, a mere thirteen hours later, Jenna had to believe that her eyes were deceiving her. Or she had to be dreaming.

_But it's all so real…_ The seven year old decided, fingering her unblemished face in a cautious manner. Not that she was upset, of course—just perplexed. Was last night a dream? No, the image of her breaking the rugby trophy made those suspicions false; the memory was just too vivid to be any less than real. Besides, the following events after breaking her father's most prized possession would have woken her up, had it been a dream.

"What happened to them…?" The little girl wondered aloud in fascination. Curiosity aside, she exited the bathroom and pranced downstairs. It was marvelous, magical even, that her entire skin was its natural permanently sun-kissed tan. If it was still a canvas of colors, the black leotard she was wearing wouldn't have done anything to help. Heaven knows what a scene if would have caused if she waltzed into her dance class with handprints plastered on her body.

"Muuum!" The little girl practically flew into the kitchen, making both her mother and older brother jump about a foot in the air. Before she arrived, they seemed to be having a discussion. "Is it time yet?"

The girl's mother, who seemed to have been writing on a piece of paper beforehand, seemed to be staring at her daughter as though they had never met. The seven year old glanced at her teenage brother, and saw him behaving in the same manner.

"What happened to your….?" Her brother, Alex, questioned.

"I dunno." She shrugged, her mother now giving her a thoughtful look before turning back to the paper and hastily writing something down, "I woke up and they were gone."

Alex's face showed his bewilderment, "But that's not possible! Bruises don't just disappear! At least, mine don't!"

The brunette girl stuck her tongue out at him in a childish manner, "Well maybe my bruises are better than your's! Maybe mine are…. are… are magical!" Alex snorted.

A loud thud sounded from the floor above the three, signaling the girl's father falling out of bed. The stream of curse words following the thud indicated that the forty-nine year old was now awake.

Her mother, who was now standing, slammed a window shut, the paper nowhere in sight. She must have slipped it into her pocket while Alex and the seven year old were conversing. "Okay, let's go. Just to warn you, I have to make a stop at the bank first. Alex, why don't you come with us?"

The almost fourteen year old gave his mother a knowing glance, and proceeded to offer his hand to his sister. "C'mon, Jenna. Let's get going."

Jenna accepted the hand and skipped outside, almost feeling the roughness of inside melt away as the sun's shine came into view.

"Take a good look, Jenna." Alex said, taking a deep breath and looking hopeful. "Who knows if we'll ever see this hellhole again."

Jenna gave her brother a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, he answered, "We…. If all goes well, we'll be going on a trip. A long, long trip…One that Dad's not invited to."

"You mean like when we went to see Matilda last year?" That had been one of the girl's favorite moments of her entire life. Going to see a West End show-just her, her mother, and Alex, along Alex's friend's family. There was just something about Matilda—Jenna couldn't put her finger on it exactly—but she felt so connected to the character. Of course, Jenna does have a loving mum and brother, but she knew how it felt to not be appreciated, to have hurtful comments thrown at her, and most importantly—she _swore_ that she sometimes moved things with her mind too! After that, her love of theatre began—which her mum absolutely encouraged. Carla Boo signed her daughter up for dance classes, a theatre summer camp, and even gave her the occasional singing lesson! Jenna soon found herself improving in dance, and even had a part in her school's version of _The Lion King_!

Alex smiled weakly, "Er… a little bit. It'll be different, though."

The sound of a lock clicking was heard as the front door to the house swung shut. Carla, Jenna's mum, was now walking towards her children, a brown suitcase rolling behind her.

"What's that for?" Jenna asked, still oblivious to the plan being put into action around her.

"Oh, nothing." Carla waved away her daughter's concern. "Come on, into the car!"

The drive to the bank was a short one, and even though they had to park a block away, the weather only made the short walk more pleasurable.

Passing a bookstore on the way, Jenna stopped and gazed upon a book in the front window. "Harry Potter and the… the P- P-hil-"

"Philosopher's Stone." The 33 year old mother read for her, humor evident in her voice. "It's about a boy wizard… you should read it sometime. I hear it's good."

"You look like a squirrel." Jenna giggled, noticing how her brother kept turning his head and looking behind them. Instead of addressing her, he turned to Carla, "I can't believe it. We did it!"

Carla, on the other hand, was not as pleased as her son as they entered the bank, "We're not quite done, yet, Alex."

"I could put this in my essay for Universities! I'll definitely be accepted into N.Y.U then!"

The brunette mother couldn't help but offer a small smile at her son's enthusiasm as the line in the bank slowly became shorter and shorter and shorter. Until…..

Jenna's still not exactly sure what happened. One minute, everything had been perfect and fine. She was poking her brother in the ribs, much to his annoyance, but there wasn't much else for a seven year old to do in a bank. Looking back, the brunette will never be able to understand how her mother knew it was coming, yet she did. She was the one who shoved Jenna and Alex into a cupboard not even a second before it happened.

She was certain the bang was heard all around the block, around all of England—she wouldn't even be surprised if they heard it in America! Now, being seven years old, Jenna didn't really know what make the loud noise. All she knew was that Alex was breathing rather heavily on the top of her head, that there were screams being made on the other side of the door, and that the cupboard was getting rather hot. A second bang came, and a deep voice shouted something. Then Jenna heard another noise, a familiar voice—her mother's! A third bang, this time accompanied by a loud thud as something hit the very cupboard she was hiding in.

_Guns._ A little voice in Jenna's head told her. She shook the thought away, _it can't be guns. What would happen it mum if i-"_

A scream formed at her lips, Alex placing his hand in front of her mouth quick enough to muffle the sound. She fought against him—_She had to get out of there! What was he doing? Why was he holding her back? She had to save mum!_

"Jenna. Stop." Alex whispered harshly in the little girl's ear, hardly loud enough for her to hear it. In one last effort, Jenna attempt to kick backwards and hit his shin. It must have worked, as he began gasping for breath and instantly let go of his hold. Taking advantage of this moment, Jenna threw the cupboard door open, and bolted out into the openness. A click signified Alex's safety, as the door was now closed. Frantically, the little girl took notice of everyone huddling against the walls of the room. There was one body by the door of the bank, a red wine-like liquid oozing out of its head. Another- Jenna must have jumped over this one—was on the floor next to the cabinet. One that looked oddly familiar…

"Well, hello there." The deep voice she heard shouting before brought Jenna's attention to the man with a hockey mask on standing in front of her. With a gun. Pointing at her head. "Where'd you come from, poppet?"

The little girl found herself oddly frozen in place. She couldn't move, couldn't make a noise, couldn't even blink!

"No matter," the man continued, "but what does matter is how you didn't follow our orders. So now, you'll take the same fate as the others who don't." A second hadn't even passed between the end of his sentence and the _bang_ that let everyone know another bullet had been released. This time—right at Jenna's head.

_But seven is too young to die! I haven't done everything yet! I haven't grown up! _These thoughts distracted the brunette, so she didn't notice the phenomenon that took place.

The bullet had stopped, not even an inch away from Jenna's left eye. And it stayed there, frozen in the air.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" The man screamed, now drawing the attention of his accomplices, who were gathering money behind the counter. He fired another shot. And another. And another.

All of them stopped short of the little girl, as though some sort of force field had been built around her. Jenna now lifted her arm, and attempted to touch a bullet. Her hand met with an invisible, yet solid, Jell-O textured wall. Yet at her touch, it evaporated and the bullets fell to the ground.

Her eyes wide with shock, Jenna couldn't help but wonder: _What's going on with me?_

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Thanks for reading! A review would mean sooo much to me! :)


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